Brands and Tattoos
by Epiphany sola Gratia
Summary: Alistair is looking back at his time in the Cauldron and the scars that resulted. Moving forward, he is dealing with his scars and his feelings of helplessness. (This story is set after the events depicted in The Balance of Wings.) Alistair, Valendrian, Shianni, Teagan and Arl Eamon's brows were all created by Bioware and they are generous to allow me to play with them.
1. Chapter 1: Scarred Memories

**Brands and Tattoos**

_**Chapter 1: Scarred Memories**_

_**King Alistair Theirin**_

I remember coming across Zevran while he was sparring with Tabris. In a blatant attempt to entice her, he had stripped off his studded leather breastplate and shirt. He was sweating profusely with the exertion but she didn't seem to notice, continuing to advance and parry, unaffected by his appearance.

Feeling slightly miffed, I had insisted on sitting and watching in full view, perched on a fallen log. Having an audience, when Zevran realized I was there, only made things worse. The assassin seemed to preen more, making a show of his semi-nude, straining muscles until Tabris swept one of his legs out from under him and pressed the tip of her short sword to his throat, "If you are going to show-off for Alistair instead of taking me seriously, then we are done here. Go jump in the stream and cool off!"

"My apologies, Cara, but it was not for his benefit that I was showing off, but the reprimand was well earned. I was very unruly. Could I make it up to you by offering to scrub your back? We might cool off together after such vigorous exertions."

"Not interested," Tabris had called over her shoulder without even acknowledging me.

I might have looked chastened after such a rebuff, but no Zevran. He grinned mischievously, smirked in my direction and chuckled, "It is much more satisfying if they initially refuse to fall into your lap." With that he stretched languidly and began to saunter toward the stream with the leisurely gate of a cat after it has been hunting and before it curls up for a nap.

Looking at his retreating form, I don't know what possessed me to blurt out, "So those…designs you have all over your back…"**

"They're called tattoos," Zevran offered graciously while casting a careless smirk in my direction before adding, "and I have them in many more places than just on my back, my friend." The suggestiveness of this volunteered information was not lost on me.

I vaguely wondered how I had allowed myself to get drawn into this line of discussion before adding hastily, "Err…right. I hear that someone gets those by having needles put the ink under your skin?"

"A great many needles, amongst other things; yes, that would be true."

The thought made me cringe and I inquired, "Didn't that hurt?"

"Oh, yes, yes," he answered, his smile widening to something unpleasant, "but it is not so bad, in truth. If you like, I could give you one. I learned a bit of the art myself in Antiva."

Though his tone was benign, I didn't trust the glint in his tawny eyes with the offer and I stood up to avoid squirming where I sat, retreating hastily back to the safety of camp, "Oh, no. NO, I don't think so."

"Come, it will just be a small one…perhaps the symbol of the Grey Wardens? Something manly! Where are my needles?" While he said this, though, he made no move to follow me. He didn't have to. He knew he had succeeded in making me feel foolish and inept.

After some time had passed, I had approached him again, asked him if he would be willing to tattoo me after all. At that moment his smile had wilted around the edges, but his bravado had held fast. I secretly suspect, though, that he had never expected me to change my mind nor would he be asked to "perform" in such a fashion. True to his nature, Zevran twisted the situation, turning it into something suggestive and awkward in order to frighten me, throwing in talk of a ritual and a massage. Again I retreated from the offer and he had seemed vaguely relieved that he would not have to tattoo me after all.

These thoughts flitted through my mind as I examined my reflection in my suite alone. My eyes were drawn to the branding scars I had received from the former Arl Crewe when I had been his _guest_. They were no longer red, as they had healed in the few intervening months and were now a pale pink. No one else ever saw them since they were concealed by my tunics and doublets in public, but even alone something about them bothered me.

It shouldn't have…but it did.

As I thought of Svenya, of the mask she had often worn to conceal her own burns on her face, it seemed petty that my marks should bother me. It wasn't about how they looked, however; it was about what they represented. They symbolized how I was unable to protect her in the impotence of that moment.

Even with all I managed to achieve afterwards, even with all those I had saved, even though I returned her to her liberty, whenever I looked at the burns I returned to that moment when I could smell my own flesh sear and hear her shriek at her father to stop because she could not endure to see me tortured as she had been.

A tenuous knock sounded at the door and I quickly threw a robe over my shoulders and cinched it around my waist before calling, "You may enter."

Teagan entered with his usual formality before explaining, "Eamon sent me to fetch you. Representatives from the Alienage have arrived unannounced and wish an audience with you."

"Is there a problem?" Are the improvements causing issues?" I questioned, confused and rushing about to locate a nicer tunic and doublet because it would not have been appropriate to receive them in my robe.

"Truth be told, if there had been something wrong the elven lady would not have hesitated to tear up one side of Eamon and down the other…" Teagan observed before adding quietly with a smile, "…though I might have paid good coin to see that. However, she seemed in good spirits at this particular time."

"I am assuming you are referring to Shianni Tabris?" I prompted while ducking behind the screen to finish dressing.

"Yes. I think Eamon hoped you would have me return to them with your regrets and send them away. He has a number of items that he recommends you address today that do not include the Alienage."

"Eamon will learn to live with the disappointment then," I replied briskly walking out from behind the screen and heading purposefully toward the door.

Teagan chuckled as he followed behind, "I believe he is becoming accustomed to that as of late."

Since we had repelled the naval attack on Denerim and I had returned from the Cauldron, Eamon had discovered that I would be far more difficult to maneuver to his liking. He never yelled or scolded, but his eyebrows when he frowned were grim and threatening with disapproval. He frowned more often now, particularly when I rebuffed his requests that I begin earnestly seeking a bride. My commissioning of artisans from Orlais to work on the Chapel at Vigil's Keep had caused him to turn chartreuse. My proposed improvements to the Alienage to stem disease had caused him to grind his teeth. When I finally pushed forward my plans to allot a certain amount of land near Ostagar specifically for the Dalish clans to settle in recognition of their marshal contributions to help end the Blight, he nearly had a stroke.

"You need not pander to them," he had hissed, trying to maintain a modicum of control.

"It is not pandering," I insisted evenly, "I have seen their value on the battle field and I would much prefer having them as an ally on our shores than as a disgruntled neighbor. Also, their skills with plants and animals will help that land to recover faster from the effects of the Blight, don't you think?"

"But the nobles..." he put forward helplessly.

I shrugged, "Things will not heal if I only concern myself with keeping the fickle nobility smiling by supporting their petty prejudices. Give it time. When they see positive results they will be less grudging."

"And if they don't?" he fussed.

"Then they will learn I am not easily dissuaded by hard work. There is more than enough of it ahead for all of us."

I walked down the colonnade and around a corner before stopping and turning to Teagan, arrested by a thought, "Have you been disappointed in me?"

He considered the question a moment before offering, "I have different goals than my brother, Alistair. He wants things to run in ways he can control. On a certain level, he wants to have things return to the sleepy plodding that had been when Maric and Rowan were firmly established after the occupation ended. This country has been insulated and quiet for a long time. When Maric left abruptly and went to sea…the security went with him. Cailan allowed himself to be _guided_ by Anora and Loghain controlled the army. He wants a return to the old monarchy, but Thedas is not the same. Things are moving. We cannot remain insulated as he wishes. I think you understand that."

"I respect your brother," I stated, "but I am neither Maric nor Cailan. I have to start standing on my own or this kingdom will fall."

"I know, Alistair," Teagan clapped me on the shoulder; "My brother will come to terms with it. In the end, we will probably all be better for it."

"I certainly hope you are right, Teagan!"

With that I entered the blue receiving room. Arl Eamon was standing with his arms crossed and a blank expression graced his face. When I walked in he looked toward me, pressing his lips into a thin line so that they were lost in his gray beard. The Alienage representatives bowed politely as I greeted them, "I am sorry if you were waiting long."

I recognized Tabris' father when he raised his head and stated, "We wished to come and extend our deepest gratitude. The first of our people sold from our Alienage were returned to us. You ransomed our people out of slavery and we are grateful."

I felt my chest swell a little at these words and thought to myself, _"I could not return your daughter to you, the least I could do was save your people from such an evil fate."_

I chose to state instead, "Your gratitude is misplaced. It should never have happened in the first place. I am deeply sorry it took so long. Agents are continuing to seek out those who were wrongly enslaved."

"This is our Elder Valendrian," Shianni ushered forward an older man with long silver hair and braids.

I extended a hand to him, saying, "Welcome back to Denerim, Elder Valendrian. I look forward to working in concert with you to improve the conditions here."

His grip shook briefly in my hand, but he betrayed no nervousness in his features and his eyes gazed openly into my own, "I have seen the improvements you have begun in our Alienage. It will make things better for us with clean water and more stable dwellings."

"Your majesty," Eamon cut in, though he made admirable efforts to hide the pointedness of his words, "You have other audiences that must be attended. I am sure your guests do not wish to keep you unnecessarily."

I nodded to my diligent and precise advisor, "Please, Arl Eamon, go on ahead to the chambers where Bann Alfstanna and the entourage for the Waking Sea are waiting. Tell her I will be with them shortly."

Eamon's mouth opened and closed once or twice before he inclined his head in a curt nod and exited the room.

"Elder Valendrian, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. Nerine Tabris spoke very highly of you during my time with her. She also mentioned that you were an acquaintance of my former mentor, Duncan," I spoke these words warmly and the man genuinely smiled in response.

"I was very sorry to hear of their loss. They were apt warriors and good people."

"Very true," I nodded, feeling a vague tickle in the back of my throat with the rising of my emotion, but I rasped once to clear it and cover the pang, "but I have a service to ask of you. I regret I have to take my leave now to see to other duties, though. I wish to speak of it in more depth with you at a more discreet place and time. By your leave, could I arrange a meeting with you in my chambers? Bann Teagan will escort you there and back to your home again, if you would find that favorable?"

"If that is your wish, who am I to say no?" the Elder offered glibly, but I shook my head.

"You are Elder of the Denerim Alienage and I do not presume you are at my beck and call. If my invitation is a hardship then please inform me."

"No, your Majesty," the man reassured me, seeming encouraged by my words, "it would be my pleasure to meet with you."

Taking this as a cue, Teagan stepped forward, "I will fetch you from your home in the late afternoon tomorrow and convey you here."

"It would probably be less peculiar if Shianni escorted me to the side entrance of the castle. You might collect me there."

"You would both be welcome. She may be present. I wish you to be at your ease," I explained, accepting his caution.

"That will be fine."

Teagan agreed, "I will meet you both at the doors near the castle gardens."

We took our leave then and headed to the larger reception chamber, meant for more formal delegations, to meet with Bann Alfstanna. As we headed through the hallway, Teagan questioned, "What was that all about, Alistair?"

"I am moving forward and deciding which scars to keep and which to adjust."

"I suppose that is commendable, though I am unsure of how you propose to do it. However, if your plans enable me to spend more time in the presence of that fetching red-headed maid, I will be more than content."

Startled, but smiling at my confidante and accomplice, I warned him, "If what Nerine said is to be believed, Shianni has a temper and a loose tongue. She will never hide what she thinks."

"Do you know how many years I have had to listen to Eamon's wife? Any voice other than Isolde's is a blessed relief!"

"I did not realize that you disliked the Orlesian lilt," I smirked.

"No, only Isolde's," shaking his head with rueful vehemence, "And I doubt it could be characterized as a `lilt' in her case. Your former companion…uh…Leliana? She has a lilt. Isolde…no, it defies description. Some voices can shatter glass but hers can crack granite."

With those last words I opened the doors and smiled broadly, feeling at ease since my discussion with the Alienage representatives. I greeted Alfstanna with a thinly veiled jubilancy, "It is good to see you again, Bann Alfstanna. I apologize for my late arrival but I had something unexpected that I had to address. Before we get down to business, however, I would like to know how your brother, Irminric, is fairing these days."

Bann Alfstanna is a formidable woman and very serious, however at the mention of her brother she smiled demurely, "He was recently sent to the Cauldron to help in the recovery there. It has been good for him. One of the healers has helped him a great deal and he speaks highly of the new teyrn you installed there. Teyrn…Gray, correct?"

"Yes. I am glad to hear that things are well for him." I gestured for her to take a seat at the great meeting table and sat down beside her, "Now, you are here regarding fishing rights off the Isles of the Three Sisters. That is off the coast, southwest of West Hill Fortress?"

"We are in dispute with Bann Franderel over it. It used to be that his boats would not go past the mouth of the River Dane. Now he claims they have always fished off the Sisters."

"If you will allow it, I would like to send Arl Eamon to find a neutral place where you and Bann Franderel may sit down and try to deal with this rift. Eamon will serve as mediator. If a reasonable compromise can be reached peaceably, that would benefit all involved. Does this sound satisfactory to you?"

"That is reasonable. Will you send word that our conclave with Franderel should be held in a week's time?"

"It shall be so," I agreed, "provided that Arl Eamon is amenable to being the mediator. What say you, Arl? Will you agree to this?" I called over to Eamon who had been standing near the door.

The man seemed stunned to the point of being flabbergasted, though not unhappy with how I had navigated the situation, but he responded after a brief pause, "It would be my pleasure to serve in this capacity."

* * *

_**The concept for this story was inspired by Louvette through her portrait of of Alistair, entitled **_**Alistair v1.5_, posted on deviantart. This picture greatly impressed me and I have had this story niggling at the back of my mind ever since. She is an excellent artist and worthy of note for her various works, not just her Dragon Age inspired art. I am a big fan and I acknowledge her with the utmost awe and gratitude._**

**_Continuity-wise, this story takes place after my larger story: _Balance of Wings _and before _The Tabris Window.**


	2. Chapter 2: Requesting Favors

_**Chapter 2: Requesting Favors**_

**__****King Alistair Theirin**

When Teagan brought Elder Valendrian and Shianni Tabris to my chambers the following day, I was nervous since I wasn't sure how to address the topic I had in mind without sounding like an ass. Though Nerine had told me much about Alienage culture, there were many things that were unclear. The last thing I wanted to do was offend them when I was working to build bridges.

Valendrian walked in looking sturdy and healthy for a man who had just escaped forced servitude. Shianni, as always, carried herself with a high head and a determined mien. She had a mind like the jaws of a mabari: once she latched on to something she would _never_ let it go. It made her quite formidable when petitioning for her people. Thankfully for me we were usually on the same side, though habit and ill-use by other humans had caused her to be a little slower in realizing this.

Our first formal meeting after my coronation consisted of her blatantly informing me that she would not easily bend in the face of wrongs and she would strive to be a thorn in my side if I assumed that she would. Then she went on to inform me of the various sanitation issues the Alienage faced and made a number of curt suggestions on how they might be remedied. After that she implied that a "shemlen" king might not appreciate the fact that her people held the Alienage against the darkspawn invasion while evacuating women and children through the sewers that had outlets safely outside the city.

I had replied calmly, "You have given me a number of good suggestions for how to deal with the issues that the Alienage faces. I intend to put them to immediate use. Rather than defer them to the new Arl of Denerim, I will oversee these improvements personally. To ensure that it is done in a swift manner, I will need you to meet with me regularly and keep me aware of the progress. Thank you for your directness."

Though she recovered quickly from being startled by my response, it took at least three more discussions before she would have any expression that resembled a smile. In everything she worked to help her people and I genuinely respected her bluntness. It was a refreshing change from the false niceties practiced by many of the other nobles.

"We are here as requested, King Alistair," Shianni stated when the door closed behind them.

"Thank you," I answered, "I appreciated your discretion in coming to my personal quarters rather than a hall or formal meeting place here on the castle grounds. What I have to ask is…" I left off in a sigh, nervous about how to proceed.

"Your majesty, I can tell you are troubled by what you wish to ask. Based on what I have seen since my return, you are very fair, reaching beyond what many humans and nobles would be comfortable with. Please speak freely," insisted the Elder.

"I realize I know very little about your culture," I responded haltingly, "I esteemed and trusted Nerine Tabris. She shared certain things about her home and her family and friends that I recall clearly. She loved you all very much. I don't want to offend you with my request."

Valendrian nodded approvingly, "I appreciate your desire to be respectful."

"Nerine had a facial tattoo. When I asked her about it she explained you were the one who performed the…ritual? I understand it is different with the Aliendage elves than with the Dalish."

"You are right to assume there is more to the act of tattooing in the Alienage than there is in human cultures. While it is not as formal a ritual as the Dalish practice, it does have distinct meaning," Valendian smiled, pleased, "In Nerine's case, hers was an act of remembrance after her mother passed. It is also a symbol of trust between the tattooer and the one being tattooed. Even her choice to have the tattoo permanently etched upon her face was significant."

I suddenly felt very awkward. Nerine had imparted none of this to me and to find out something so personal felt…it felt as if I had lost so much more than the love of my life. I had lost the opportunity to know her even more deeply, to understand those pieces that she did not share casually or easily.

Valendrian broke the silence, "Is it reasonable for me to assume that you wish to have me perform this ritual for you?"

Not trusting my voice, I nodded affirmation.

"Where would you wish the tattoo to be placed?" he inquired gently.

I felt the color rise across my face. It was not that the area was suggestive, but the brands were not things I spoke of with anyone. Only a handful of people knew of them and they were leagues away in the Cauldron. My personal feelings regarding the brands were still in knots.

Sensing my conflicted discomfort, Valendrian turned to Shianni, "Shianni, would you please step out of the room so I can speak with the King in private?"

"I would be willing to take Lady Shianni for a turn around the castle gardens, if she would consent?" offered Teagan gallantly from where he stood by the door.

Looking from Valendrian to Teagan and back again, Shianni finally sighed, "A walk in the air would be nice…I suppose. Are you certain you wish me to go, Elder?"

"Do not worry about me," the older man reassured her.

She walked toward the door, which Teagan opened for her before following. After the door had closed behind them I distinctly heard Shianni warn, "I hope you know to watch those hands. The fact that you are a bann means nothing to me."

"I assure you, lady…" came the semi-meek response.

"My name is Shianni, that is all," she cut off Teagan as their voices faded along with their footsteps down the hallway.

Valendrian chuckled, "Shianni is a good woman, though she behaves very tough at times. I am certain the bann will have a lively discussion with her that will keep them both entertained," he then turned back to me, "Now that we have privacy, would you feel more comfortable showing me where you would like the tattoo?"

I unlaced the jerkin and removed it before pulling the tunic over my head, exposing my torso so that Valendrian could see the brands. I gestured to them awkwardly, "These are what I want to…cover?"

The Elder stepped forward, examining the brands closely without touching them, before observing, "These are fairly recent. If they were older the outlines would be white…"

"They are somewhat recent…I have only had them a few months," I confirmed.

"These weren't voluntary?"

"No."

He seemed to consider them carefully a moment more before gesturing that I should redress, "I am honored that you are asking me to do this for you. It will require preparation for me to obtain fine needles and sterilize them. There are also ingredients for ink that need to be gathered and mixed. I could begin in the span of a fortnight. Make arrangements for a time when we will not be disturbed. The time necessary for the inking is lengthy. We should do this on an evening when all your other duties have been fulfilled."

"That is acceptable," I concurred, "Is there anything you will require me to do to prepare…the skin?"

"No, your Majesty. I will bring what is required to cleanse the skin," he reassured me, "We should start with the brand on your arm?"

"That would be fine."

"Do you desire a particular design?" he inquired quizzically.

"Could you do the Grey Wardens' symbol?"

"I believe I could manage that and ensure that it is large enough to cover the branded area."

"Are you sure I don't need to bathe in rose water or something…?" I queried again, the memory of what Zevran had once said niggled at the back of my mind.

Valendrian raised his eyebrows in puzzlement, but kept an even tone, "Quite certain. However, as far as what the ritual entails, you must be prepared to speak freely."

"Speak freely?"

"This is a ritual of memory and trust. Particularly in your case, I think you need to come to terms with your scars, or am I wrong?" He posed, looking at me expectantly.

"You are not wrong…" I allowed, getting a better idea of the scope of what I was requesting of the Elder.

"Then I will return in a fortnight," he declared as I reached out to clasp his hand.

I escorted Elder Valendrian to the castle gardens where Shianni and Teagan were having a very animated discussion. Her voice reached our ears long before we caught sight of the pair. On greeting them, Shianni looked surprised that so much time had passed.

Valendrian and Shianni took their leave and as they headed through the garden gate, I turned to Teagan, "Now that you've had some time, would you say _her _voice could crack granite?"

"No," he smiled, "her voice is very pleasant. Near musical if I should describe it. Will I be required to entertain her again?"

I tried not to focus on the hopeful note in this question and responded, "In two weeks."

"Should I help arrange for Eamon to be engaged outside of Denerim?" Teagan angled his head, looking at me from the corner of his eye.

"I don't think so. Eamon has agreed to ride to the Waking Sea next week. He is the mediator for a dispute between Bann Alfstanna and Bann Franderel," I informed Teagan.

He chortled quietly in response, "That will do it."

"If sorting through that mess takes less than a month I will be disappointed," I shrugged, "Besides, it makes Eamon feel useful and I won't have to look at his disapproving eyebrows every time I turn around."

"Yes, a good decision to delegate this to Eamon," Teagan grinned outright, "Let the Waking Sea withstand the disapproving Guerrin brows!"

"Why didn't you get the Guerrin brows?"

"My father willed them to Eamon," Teagan joked airily, "I was not about to contest that. I am not a vain man, but I might have been tempted to pluck them if I had been so endowed."

"Have I mentioned recently that you are much better company since I returned from the Cauldron?"

"You've been running away from Eamon less. He, however, has been delegating _me _to keep you in line before he implodes," he shook his head, "With Eamon stepping back more I have not had to appease him. He really isn't so bad when he is out of earshot."

"Hmph," I continued in mock disappointment, "So you only follow me around at Eamon's behest?"

Teagan retorted, "Of course not! I follow you around so I can steal glances at Shianni when she comes to meet with you. Look at how brilliantly my plan is working!"

"Ah hah! I knew it!" I clapped him on the shoulder.

"I think, with your leave of course, I will plan a quiet dinner in two weeks. Would the southern veranda that overlooks these gardens be acceptable, do you think?" he asked.

"Make sure you have the staff set out some candles," I sobered a little, "What I need may take a while."

* * *

_**The concept for this story was inspired by Louvette through her portrait of of Alistair, entitled **_**Alistair v1.5_, posted on deviantart. This picture greatly impressed me and I have had this story niggling at the back of my mind ever since. She is an excellent artist and worthy of note for her various works, not just her Dragon Age inspired art. I am a big fan and I acknowledge her with the utmost awe and gratitude._**

**_Continuity-wise, this story takes place after my larger story: _Balance of Wings _and before _The Tabris Window.**


	3. Chapter 3: Trust and Tattooing

_**Chapter 3: Trust and Tattooing**_

**__****King Alistair Theirin**

The day the tattooing was supposed to be done I filled my time to avoid thinking about it. There were many things to do about the grounds and various issues to oversee. In particular, I spent a leisurely amount of time at the royal kennels. A new litter of mabari pups were near to being weaned and I enjoyed watching them gambol about each other with the oversized paws that they had not grown into awkwardly bounding about.

I had been toying with the idea of gifting Svenya with a pup, but none really caught my eye in that litter. For starters, I was not entirely sure what I was looking for that would please her. Not just any would do, I felt. It had to be special; that was certain. Though all of the pups were from good lines and would be fine dogs, none struck me as being the perfect companion for her.

It no longer startled me when Svenya crept into my thoughts during idle moments. It had become habitual at any time when I was not being thrust by Arl Eamon from one diplomatic need to another; my thoughts would often turn to her. The lack of her companionship left a queer gap in my life and it would not be filled with all my efforts to distract myself, so I resolved to accept it and would think of her fondly. At least thoughts of her left a smile on my lips.

Moving onto another task, I perused the stack of missives that Eamon had left behind on my desk. They were from various families in the Ferelden nobility and many inquired, none too subtly, if I would consider their daughters, sisters or nieces as a suitable bride. Eamon had thoughtfully provided his opinions in the form of neat notations on the back of each missive, identifying admirable qualities in each candidate represented. The ones that had garnered the most notes of praise-worthiness were Lady Andra Landoese of Killarney (_"A model of piety and compassion. She is sweet tempered in nature with impeccable manners.")_ and Elissa Cousland, the sister of Teyrn Fergus Cousland. (_"A well respected family, popular among the nobility and offers a reasonable amount of marshal prowess. She is disciplined and of strong character.") _

It was becoming more and more difficult to fend off Arl Eamon's match making attempts. He was near rabid in his insistence that I be wed and produce a suitable heir in order to solidify the Theirin line. Though I accepted his intentions were good, it made me feel like a horse being put out to stud.

The pile of missives again caused me to wish that Svenya would change her mind and consent to marry me. Considering how poorly my first proposal went, I had little hope that her initial answer would change.

_"You have sacrificed enough, King Alistair Theirin, that you should not be forced to settle for less in order to appease the tepid niceties of nobility. Do not sacrifice yourself to your duty and forget the duty you owe yourself. Though this may be acceptable to you, there is no compromising on this issue for me. I will not settle for less than love! It is one of the few, dear happinesses that the Maker affords in our brief lives. It would be a crime to allow you to discard this gift for me."_

She was a braver woman than I, willing to beard the traditions that have held us for so long. It was part of what fueled my regard for her. She was willing to dig in her heels where I could not. If I had been so brave I would have embraced death rather than be separated from Nerine.

Nerine was gone and Svenya had refused me on principle. I would have had love with Tabris. I would have had comfort and companionship with Svenya. Lacking either of those things, my prospects seemed empty. Perhaps that is precisely what Svenya had meant.

I had the option to pick any one of these women at random and it would all be the same. We would submit to a ceremony, we would consummate a contract between silken sheets and we would hopefully bear children to appease the bent of nobility. Why did this seem so wrong to me?

These thoughts produced a deep unease and I could feel the brand over my heart twinge with that ache I constantly strove to ignore.

As the sun began to ride low on the horizon, I was completely morose. I was very close to throwing all the missives into my chamber fire as I stoked it impatiently. There was also a moment when I considered writing a terse letter to Svenya, arguing against all the well-intended reasons she had set before me when I had last seen her. The thought of venting my frustration on her seemed very attractive at that moment, though I knew full well that it was foolish to pick such a fight at a distance when she could not easily respond.

What did I hope would happen?

_My fancies went wild at this question!_

I could imagine her receiving the letter and perhaps fuming at my arrogance. She would share the missive with Bruna and confer over what would be an acceptable reply. Then she would arrange to travel and address me directly, for simply putting her thoughts on parchment would not be satisfying for her. She would make the trip in order to have it out with me. After riding through the gates, she would push past all the suing nobles and dignitaries, grab me by the scruff of the neck, drag me into an adjoining chamber and take a moment to stand before me with her arms crossed in front of her as she glared disdainfully at me.

Then the lecture would begin. My words would get twisted against me and I would look like a jackass, which I was, particularly when it came to any of my reasoning regarding her. When her seething was spent, though, she would notice how relieved and happy I would be to see her. I would apologize whole heartedly before addressing her as "lady" and comparing her grace to those of a swan just so I could hear her argue that she was neither a lady nor swan-like. Then I would kiss her hand so I could watch the color rise, blotting out her natural pallor around her mask, with her soft brown eyes sparkling.

She did blush so beautifully when she allowed it…

The knock at the door jolted me from my dreaming and Teagan ushered in Elder Valendrian and Shianni as he had done before. I brushed a weary hand across my face and composed myself. The smile felt forced, but I wanted to be pleasant since I had inconvenienced the Elder.

Valendrian was carrying a strange satchel that resembled a wooden box with a worn leather handle at the top, "I have brought all that is necessary for the ritual. All we require is time and privacy. If you would clear your table there it would probably be useful."

Shianni looked vaguely ill-at-ease and asked, "Are you certain, Elder Valendrian, that you do not require help? I would be more than happy to remain with you."

He waved her off, "No, Shianni. It is best you leave us to do this in peace."

Teagan stepped forward, "I was about to have dinner, myself. I would appreciate your company."

For a moment I worried Shianni might bolt like a startled deer or insist that she should go home. Instead she seemed to consider what Teagan said and finally consented with a nod of her head. She allowed Teagan to lead her from the room, quietly.

"I hope your friend is willing to be patient with her," Valendrian sighed, troubled, "The bann's attentions both flatter and frighten her. He is obviously a good man and kind, I can see it in his eyes, but she has suffered certain…injuries. The men who caused them have paid for it and are gone, but the scars still remain."

He turned to me, a deep sadness in his eyes. It sounded so similar to the difficulties I faced but did not know how to put into words, so I nodded. Turning to my desk, I carefully cleared it and, less carefully, dumped the entire pile of noisome, pandering missives on the floor close to the fire grate.

As I did this, Valendrian got my wash basin from its corner by the screen and poured some water in it. He washed his hands thoroughly, dumped the used water from the basin out the window and re-filled it, adding a pinch of sweet smelling herbs that he carried in a pouch, "Take off your shirt, lay down on your stomach on the table and be sure to have your branded arm in easy reach so that I can work on it."

I did as I was bid, feeling both nervous and awkward. When I had settled myself, my chin resting on the backs of my hands, he used a soft cloth to swab the branded arm with the herb-water. It caused a strange tingling sensation against my skin and made a chill travel down my spine.

"With the scarring from the brand the skin is more taut and tough. This should help to soften it enough so that your skin will accept the ink without dulling the pigment," Valendrian explained, "Are you ready to begin?"

"Yes," I rasped hoarsely, feeling an unexpected mix of anxiety and anticipation.

He pulled out a long wooden peg with a needle held snug in the end, dipping the end in the ink much like a quill. The initial pricking into my hide resembled dull beestings, but it also felt like it crackled beneath the surface, as if fed by weak lightning. Part of me had expected the movements to be jerky, but they were smooth, implying he had done this many times before. I had to fight the urge to jerk with the first couple of shallow stabs until I eventually became inured to it.

"How did you receive the brands?" Valendrian suddenly inquired without taking his eyes away from his work.

"I was in the Cauldron and I was captured by a traitorous arl. He was unaware of who I was but I was allied with his daughter. He tried to force her to marry someone against her will. The only way he could devise to force her to yield to his demands was by torturing me until she gave in," I strove to explain this with an air of dispassionate neutrality.

He paused a moment, took a breath as if considering how he would proceed with the design, but as he began pricking again he asserted, "That must have been very difficult for you, to have your pain used against someone."

"Yes," I hissed through gritted teeth.

"That is the danger of caring for others and putting their wellbeing before your own. Their pain can unman you, though you would willingly risk any suffering to protect them. Only having two brands on you tells me that she gave in fairly quickly to spare you." Valendrian mused quietly.

"He was poised to brand my face when she relented. It could have been far worse. I was lucky," came the insistent statement, though in my heart I did not feel lucky as I remembered Svenya being dragged away, weeping for me and professing how sorry she was.

"It is not the brands that really bother you," Valendrian observed, as if reading my mind, though it was probably from the tensing of my jaw.

"No, it is not the brands that bother me," I admitted.

He hesitated, sat back on his stool and looked at me for a long moment, "If the woman had not been involved would you care about these brands? If he had branded your face would you have cared as long as she was safe?"

"No," I admitted, furrowing my brow, "Being scarred doesn't bother me. Even if he had succeeded and burned my face it would not have mattered."

"So, is your discomfort with the brands caused by your memories of helplessness or was it because you were unable to protect her?"

My mouth felt dry, as if it was full of wool. I could not answer and I wasn't sure that I wanted to.

Perhaps Valendrian did not require a response, for he leaned in to continue his work on my arm once again. The needling was focused on that small swath of my skin, but the sensation seemed to travel and gather at the base of my skull, prickling away.

After an interminable amount of time passed in silence, Valendrian offered, "I had Shianni take me to the monument for Nerine that you had erected outside the city gates. It is so green with the coming Spring and the flowers are blooming. I am happy you planted trees there too. They will give nice shade when they grow larger."

"She had told me one of her happiest memories was of sitting in the shade of the vhenadahl tree when the sunlight made it over the Alienage walls," I recalled hollowly.

"That she did," confirmed Valendrian, "She loved that great tree."

"Leliana said that while they made their way through the Alienage following the track of the archdemon to Fort Drakon during the battle of Denerim, Nerine had remarked to her what a relief it was to see the tree still standing, untouched by the destruction. As long as the tree stayed upright she said there was hope," the words tasted sour with unshed tears where once my mouth was dry.

"She would have died for that tree alone," Valendrian rasped, seeming to feel the emotion as deeply as I before clearing his throat, "I doubt she regretted a thing. She just lived and loved that way. She didn't regret leaving the Alienage either because it was the price of protecting someone she loved."

"I'm not sure it was worth it," I admitted.

"As long as she felt it was worth it," he countered, "I'm not sure if anything else matters. You can't argue with the dead. You have to move on with what is left."

"Is it that easy?" I demanded more tersely than I intended.

Valendrian seemed to take no offense at my tone and sighed, "I never said it was easy."

From out of nowhere the words tumbled from my lips, "Why can't I protect the people I love? Why must I watch them suffer protecting me?"

"Are you speaking of Nerine or are you speaking of your other lady?"

"Nerine…Svenya…I don't know…," I admitted, "I am tired of this aching helplessness."

"And you chose to have the symbol of the order where you felt of the greatest use tattooed on you…" he pressed, stopping his work again with my agitation.

"And I lost all of my brethren too, fighting a battle they could not win without the aid of a larger army. I should have died with them at Ostagar or on top of the Fort Drakon Tower as a Grey Warden…"

"Now you are forced to go on living as a king, separated from your order and isolated by your position," Valendrian finished for me.

It was too much, I got off the desk and began pacing, taking in deep, gulping breaths. Valendrian continued to sit on his stool, watching me as I went from one end of the chamber to the other, neither comforting nor chastising. When I came to a complete stop before him and looked at him directly he finally spoke, "Duncan struggled with many of the same feelings. Usually they were regarding his recruits and comrades. He saw many young, honorable men meet sad ends. Even without a Blight, the life of a Warden is difficult and full of self-denial. However, without a Blight the need for Wardens probably feels equally pointless."

"How did he make peace with it?" I asked, surprised.

"I asked him the same thing," Valendrian smiled, "He said that eventually he came to understand that if you were at peace with losing good people, then part of what makes you human has died. There is no such thing as acceptable losses. Many rulers and generals talk of sacrifice but have no true idea of what it is. If they feel nothing for the people who die beneath them, then it is not a sacrifice for them. True sacrifice is a singular affair, it is the decision of the one but it has the potential to touch many. If Nerine had not made that choice for herself, would the Blight have ended? If your lady had not made the choice to have you spared from torture, would you have been able to continue as king? Would you even still be alive? If the Wardens did not make a stand at Ostagar, how many of those people evacuated from Lothering would have had time to flee? Do not blame yourself. They believed in what they did, they chose it for good or ill. It is good that you count them as a loss; it is good that you recognized their value. Let that temper your judgment. Strive to seek out those of equal value. Surround yourself with such worthy people. It will make you a better leader and a stronger king."

"Is that what being a leader is?" I asked, flummoxed by what had been imparted, "It is just seeking those of value and learning to rely on them?"

"One must cultivate them as well," Valendrian added, "That takes even more patience. Duncan was particularly good at that as I recall."

"Is that was an Elder does, too?" I genuinely smiled with that.

"The good ones try to, though with mixed results. Humans and elves make their own choices, regardless of station. A king cannot rule a heart or conscience other than his own. It is the same for an elder," he beckoned me back to the desk, "Now come and we should finish the tattoo or we will be here all night."

When I once again rested upon the desk top, the dull ache of the needle pricks along my skin, I angled, "I believe that the Alienage should have a bann to represent them. What are your thoughts?"

"I think it would be reasonable to give a voice to the elves, provided it is a wise one that speaks."

"Would you consider being the bann?"

There was a sudden reluctance in the pause that followed, Valendrian looking troubled and uncomfortable, "I do not think it should be me. I am too old for this new world you are trying to realize. However, I do have one who would do the job well…"

"Shianni?" I offered, predicting his choice.

He chuckled at that and countered, "I do believe she was right about you!"

"In what way?" I inquired, curious.

"Before they brought me to meet you, I had asked Shianni what sort of man you were," he explained with a grin, "She stated, `He is pretty perceptive for a _shem_.'"

"High praise, indeed," I chuckled, though careful to keep my arm inert while he continued to work.

"From her it surely is," Valendrian agreed, "But she is honest, forthright and cares for her people. You could not want a better bann to represent our Alienage."

"Then it is agreed."

The hours waned, the night grew deeper and we spoke of many things, plans for continued improvements to the Alienage, new opportunities for the elves who lived there and more equal protections under the law and how to enforce it.

Finally Valendrian announced, "It is done!" as he began to slather a slightly green tinted ointment against the area, "For the first week you must apply this ointment twice a day. Also, bandage it for the first couple of days so that your tunic does not irritate the area."

"Thank you, Elder Valendrian," I said, getting up stiffly from the desk before walking to my full length looking glass to examine the work, admiring the Warden Crest against my muscled arm.

"I think it came out better than the first time I attempted to tattoo that insignia," he observed absently as an afterthought.

"When did you tattoo the Warden crest before?" I found I was unable to contain my curiosity when baited by this information.

"I did one for Duncan a number of years ago," he informed me in his frank fashion.

Trying to wrack my brain, I tried to recall having seen it during my time with Duncan, but nothing came to mind, even when considering the times he went shirtless during training.

Valendrian must have noticed my pensiveness while he gathered his supplies and replaced them in the satchel, "Is something amiss?"

"I don't recall ever seeing it," I admitted before allowing, "Perhaps I just never noticed it."

Valendrian laughed outright at this, "There is probably a very good reason you never saw the tattoo. As I told you before, placement of the tattoos have just as much meaning as the design. At the time he did not hold the order in particularly high esteem. The placement reflected his feelings at _that_ time."

"Do you mean to tell me that Duncan had you tattoo the Warden emblem on his…?" I was unable to finish, feeling both amused and mortified.

"Shianni was certainly right when she said you were perceptive," he smiled warmly, "Now, have you given any thought of what you want tattooed over the brand on your chest?"

I looked down at the pink sword of mercy outlined on my flesh. Previously I had wanted it covered, but giving it more thought, I reflected on what it represented. It was close to my heart, it had even come with me into the Fade, reassuring me of my reality and it was a reminder of who I had been just as surely as the Warden symbol.

"I think I will let it remain for the time being."

Valendrian nodded without comment. When the last of his vials had been stowed, he requested, "Could you lead me to where Shianni and the good bann are likely eating? Hopefully everything went well without incident. If not we might have to rescue the bann from her ire."

"Don't worry too much;" I reassured him, "I believe they are evenly balance: his patience for her passion."

"I am not convinced that there is anything that can balance her passion."

"Perhaps, but Bann Teagan is not on to back down from a challenge."

I am not sure who was more chagrinned with the sight we beheld. When we reached the southern veranda Bann Teagan and future Bann Shianni were partaking of their _second_ bottle of Antivan Brandy and in very high spirits.

The sight of us managed to sober Teagan slightly and he both blushed and gushed, "The lady stated she had no taste for wine and I had no taste for beer. This seemed the most reasonable compromise betwixt the twain."

"Twain?" Shianni giggled the word into the semblance of a question.

"Sorry for the `fancy schmancy' words, my dear," Teagan apologized; blissfully unaware of how sloppily he slurred the phrase I assumed he had borrowed from her. He confided to me, "She has informed me that I was too formal with her. She said I had to speak more plain, less `fancy schmancy' and I strive to please the beautiful lady."

"He's learning," Shianni allowed, trying to appear more composed, failing miserably and standing up a little more wobbly than would have been ideal. Valendrian took her arm to steady her and she smiled at him affectionately.

"Do you think you need help, Elder Valendrian?" I addressed him respectfully, trying to maintain my own seriousness, though it was difficult when confronted with such an entertaining scene.

"It will be well, but if you could send a steward it might not be a bad idea. I am not so young and I doubt I could carry her if the need arose," he huffed, mildly annoyed.

"No steward, Elder Valendrian," I insisted, sending a servant to fetch me a long, hooded cloak, "I would prefer to escort you both to ensure you reach home safely."

Shianni seemed to filter this through her tipsy haze and became wide eyed with worry, "Is that wise?"

"I was never one to worry about being wise but I believe in looking after others. As Arl Eamon is fond of saying," with this I coughed, making my voice gruffer and more loftily formal, "`Nobility does not exist without obligation. We owe all we have, even our lives, to our land and our people.'"

"A very apt impression," Teagan observed with a hiccupping chuckle.

"Thank you," I smiled at him before turning back to Shianni and Valendrian, "You are both my people and this is an obligation I gladly embrace. As of late there are few obligations I have truly enjoyed as much as this. Please do not refuse me this kindness."

"How can we refuse?" Valendrian countered with a gracious smile.

"Quite easily, but I appreciate that you aren't," I turned to Teagan, who straightened expectantly for me to direct him, "Go to bed, good Teagan. I assure you I have things under control."

"That you do, your Majesty," Teagan confirmed while making a slightly awkward bow, "That you do."

That night, after I conveyed my elven friends safely back to their homes in the Alienage, I returned to the castle and my chambers. For the first time in a while I felt blithe in heart. I examined the new tattoo once before gently bandaging it and going to bed.

I could not help but wonder what Svenya would make of me. My final thoughts as I drifted off, reclining alone in bed, were memories of her laughter and the brand over my heart twinged again with a different sort of ache, though not an unwelcome one.

* * *

_**The concept for this story was inspired by Louvette through her portrait of of Alistair, entitled **_**Alistair v1.5_, posted on deviantart. This picture greatly impressed me and I have had this story niggling at the back of my mind ever since. She is an excellent artist and worthy of note for her various works, not just her Dragon Age inspired art. I am a big fan and I acknowledge her with the utmost awe and gratitude._**

**_Continuity-wise, this story takes place after my larger story: _Balance of Wings _and before _The Tabris Window.**


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